For a Good Time Call
by atetheredmind
Summary: On a bathroom stall door is the last place Katniss ever thought she'd see Peeta Mellark's name again. Modern AU.
1. Reintroduction

**a/n:** _I haven't done a WIP in a while, mostly because I am terrible at maintaining a level of enthusiasm and interest required to finish a story, so we'll see how this goes! This was originally a drabble I wrote on tumblr inspired by a request from an anon, but my mind went a little wild with it and wanted to turn it into a longer story, though I don't anticipate it will be _too_ long. Just a handful of chapters. I hope y'all enjoy!_

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><p>"Ugh."<p>

It doesn't matter how many times Katniss uses the bathroom at Sae's, a hole-in-the-wall bar in her hometown of Panem, she can't fight the involuntary grimace when she enters the stall. A very distinct _toilet _smell assaults her every time, and somebody almost always trickles urine on the seat. As much as she appreciates the well-worn feel of the bar, she wishes it didn't extend to the bathrooms, as well.

Wrinkling her nose, Katniss generously wads up about three feet of toilet paper to wipe off the seat. Then, hastily depositing the used tissue into the toilet, she pulls down her pants and hovers precariously over the seat, about two inches, so she doesn't accidentally graze the questionably stained porcelain while peeing.

As she empties her bladder, she entertains herself by reading the graffiti that's accumulated on the stall door over the years. It's epithets and exclamations she's all read before, memorized even—_LJ + TM = 4ever_, _Ur boyfriend gives good head_, _Go Mockingjays! _and of course the requisite penis illustration—but a new addition just above the door latch, scribbled sloppily in blue ink, catches her eye.

_For the best sex of your life:  
>Call Peeta Mellark<br>722-1563_

She's so taken aback, she forgets where she's at and collapses on the toilet seat as her legs give out. Her surprised gasp morphs into a disgusted groan, and she quickly hikes herself back up to finish, wipes herself off and yanks her pants up. After she flushes, though, she lingers, staring at the door, at that familiar name.

Peeta Mellark. She never thought she'd hear that name again.

Shaking her head, she whips out her phone and snaps a photo, for prosperity's sake. And to show her friend, Madge, who might also remember him.

Katniss strolls out of the bathroom after diligently scrubbing her hands, heading for the booth in the far right corner where Madge and their other friend, Johanna, sit. They look up at her as she approaches.

"Look what I found in the bathroom stall." Sliding into the booth, Katniss flips her phone around to show her friends the photo she snapped just a moment ago, inexplicably excited about her find.

"If this is another butt plug like last time, I don't wanna see," Madge groans, but Johanna snatches the phone out of Katniss' hand to examine the picture.

"For the best sex of your life...Peeta Mellark...722-1563," she recites, squinting at the screen before tossing the phone back to Katniss disinterestedly. "Funny."

But Madge frowns, snatching the phone bacl. "Wait a minute. Peeta Mellark..." She purses her lips as she studies the phone, tapping her finger against her chin. "Didn't we go to school with him?" she asks Katniss.

Katniss nods, smirking wryly. "Yeah, high school."

Madge eyes her suspiciously. "Didn't you have a crush on him?"

Her friend's unexpected question slaps the smugness right off Katniss' face. She blanches, rearing back in her seat. "No! What are you talking about?" she balks.

"I swear I thought you did..."

Suddenly, Johanna is intrigued again, and she grins wickedly. "_Oh ho_, let me see that again," she demands, taking the phone back. Katniss has a sinking feeling in her gut as her friend grins at the phone and then at her. "Crush, huh?"

"No!" Katniss exclaims emphatically. "No, I just remembered his name from school! I thought Madge would get a kick out of it!"

"Still...you remembered his name. It sounds like you were intrigued." Huffing, Katniss rolls her eyes at Johanna, who prods with a sinister glint in her brown eyes, "You should call him."

Katniss scowls. "I'm not going to call him."

"Text him, then."

"And say what? _Hey, I saw your number in a bathroom, wanna have sex?_" Katniss says dryly, eliciting a laugh from Madge, but Johanna shrugs.

"Yeah, sounds good to me."

"No."

Johanna pouts at her, her fingers tapping idly on Katniss' iPhone case. "Well, at least share it on Facebook, so someone else can have a shot."

Her friend is incorrigible. "That's gross. I'm not going to be responsible for getting him harassed by horny, sex-starved women," Katniss says, distracted by the appearance of the server who asks if she wants another beer. Katniss hems and haws her way through her order before settling on a draft selection and then looks back at Johanna. Her eyes bulge when she realizes her friend is typing furiously on her phone. "Oh my god—what are you doing?!" she shrieks, prying her phone out of the other woman's hands.

Johanna laughs. "Too late."

Katniss gapes helplessly at her phone as she reads the text Johanna just sent to supposed-Peeta's number, attached with the photo Katniss took: _Best sex huh? Can I verify this claim?_

"Oh my god, Johanna, _you shit_," she hisses, shooting her friend an evil glare. She taps vainly on the text, trying to figure out a way to stop it, but her heart drops when she hears the familiar _bloop _alert and sees the "Delivered" stamp at the bottom.

"Jo, you didn't really..." Madge admonishes, staring at her wide-eyed. The brown-haired woman just shrugs as she sips her whiskey.

"Lighten up, you guys. It's probably a fake number anyway."

As if to prove her wrong, Katniss' phone lights up with a text: _Who is this?_

Katniss blanches. "Oh fuck, he responded. Johanna, I'm going to kill you!"

Johanna is unperturbed, shrugging once again as she smiles. "He'll probably think it's funny. It's not like it says to call him for the _worst_ sex of your life."

Groaning, Katniss debates how to respond—if she should at all. Finally, she settles on: _I'm really sorry, my friend sent that as a joke. Sorry to bother you!_

She hopes that will be the end of it, but a response text pops up almost immediately: _Who is this? _Shit. He's not going to let it go. With another inward groan, she sets her phone down to ignore his question and eagerly grabs the beer when the server returns before she can even set it down on the table. She takes a healthy gulp and then glares at Johanna again.

"You are the worst. I don't know why I hang out with you sometimes," she grouses. Her phone starts ringing, and she freezes. It's the same number. "Shit."

Johanna cackles. "What are you waiting for? Answer it!"

Katniss looks horrified. "You can't be serious."

But even Madge is smiling. "Just answer it. It's Peeta—if I remember correctly, he's the type of guy who will just laugh it off."

Covering her face, Katniss muffles her whine. Her phone keeps ringing. With a defeated sigh, she picks her phone up and answers it. "Hello?" she asks nervously, wincing.

"Who is this?" The voice on the other end is deeper, more melodic than she remembers, but she recognizes it all the same. And there is a distinct edge of annoyance to it. Her eyes widen, and she's momentarily rendered stupid. She doesn't recall seeing Peeta Mellark annoyed even once in high school, and somehow she's managed to do it despite having not seen him in six years.

"Where was this picture taken?" he demands, more firmly this time, and she blinks as she comes to her senses. She shoots her friends a helpless look, who are watching her expectantly.

"Um...I—I'm so sorry, I swear my friend was just fucking with me, and she thought it would be funny to send that to you. Seriously, I'm going to make her pay for it later, don't worry," Katniss rambles, her glare earning a good-natured middle finger from said friend.

"Okay, but that's still a real picture, right? Meaning my name and number are up somewhere in some seedy bathroom somewhere?" he asks, though it's not so much a question.

Katniss furrows her brow, chewing the corner of her lip worriedly. "Well...yes. But I wouldn't exactly call this place _seedy_," she offers as if it's some kind of consolation. Sae's isn't the fanciest joint in Panem, and the bathrooms might be gross, but she takes pride in the place.

"And what is this place _exactly_?" he asks, his demanding tone lightened by a surprisingly droll lilt.

"Um...it's this bar called Sae's, it's in—"

"Panem," he finishes for her. "I know it. I'll be there shortly."

He disconnects the call there, and she pulls her phone away from her ear, staring at it.

"Well, what happened?!" Madge grills, leaning closer over the table.

Katniss makes a face. "Apparently he's coming here?" she says uncertainly, setting her phone down.

Johanna snorts in amusement. "To give you the best sex of your life?"

Katniss' eyes snap to her friend in another heated glare. "No, he sounds _pissed_, Jo. Thanks for your help in all this, by the way."

"Well, either way, maybe this will liven up the place," Johanna muses as she examines the half-empty bar.

"Are you _sure_ you didn't have a crush on him?" Madge interjects offhandedly, narrowing her eyes at Katniss, who flushes.

"No, I did not! He was a nice guy, but that's it. I didn't know him, and I never even spoke to him." Which isn't exactly true. He handed her her pencil one time when she dropped it in English class, and she mumbled an embarrassed thank you under the intense gaze of his blue eyes. But that was the extent of her interactions with the popular, well-liked school wrestling champion who was way too cool to notice someone as inconsequential as her. It's hardly worth mentioning, even though she played that moment over in her head every night before she went to bed the rest of the school year. But that's still not something ludicrous like a _crush_.

"He was pretty cute, too," Madge adds thoughtfully. Katniss flushes again and shoves her beer bottle in her mouth to sip—and hopefully conceal her blush. She could barely admit to herself how often she fantasized about Peeta Mellark in school—damn if she's going to own up to it now.

"Whatever, he sounds like he's going to come yell at me or maybe burn the place down, so I think it's time to go," she insists before chugging the rest of her beer as fast as she can. It's too much, and she ends up coughing and sputtering as some dribbles down her chin, then she finishes it off.

Johanna sighs. "Man, you don't want us to have any fun." But she waves to the server anyway, trying to get her attention.

The server is busy tending to other patrons, however, and after a few minutes of agonized waiting, Katniss begins bouncing her knee anxiously, her eyes darting to the entrance frequently. Maybe he won't come, she tries to reassure herself, ignoring the part buried way deep inside her that kind of wishes he would.

Her body tenses when the door suddenly swings open, a familiar crop of wavy blond hair appearing. He's only a little taller than she remembers, but broader in the shoulders and chest. Much broader. His face is just as beautiful, more chiseled though, and his eyes are as hauntingly blue as she remembers, even from a distance.

Her breath stalls in her throat as those eyes survey the bar, and she only releases it when he heads in the direction of the bar. He didn't see her. Or maybe he just doesn't remember her—much more likely.

How did he get here so fast? Does he still live in Panem? It seems absurd, someone like him sticking around this podunk town. Katniss is pretty sure she's the only person from their graduating class who stayed around; Madge is only visiting her, Johanna too, but she only met the latter in college.

"He's here," Katniss whispers stiffly, her eyes darting between him and her friends, who follow her line of sight. Johanna's face brightens as her attention lands on him.

"_That's_ Peeta Mellark?" she asks appreciatively. "I'm starting to believe his bathroom endorsement now."

"I don't know," Madge says doubtfully, a teasing smile on her lips. "Sometimes it's the pretty guys who are the worst in bed."

Inexplicably, Katniss feels defensive of Peeta. "I'm sure he's more than adequate," she argues. Johanna's mouth curls into a grin.

"So you've thought about it, huh?"

Katniss seethes, her face turning red, and her eyes flit back in his direction involuntarily. He's leaning against the bar, talking to the bartender and gesturing in the direction of the bathroom.

"Maybe you should go talk to him?" Madge offers. "He might be reassured once he knows who you are. You were pretty harmless in school."

Katniss shoots her a dubious look. "Thanks for that backhanded compliment." Her friend just shrugs, and Katniss turns her attention back to Peeta, who's now waiting quietly while the bartender scopes out the bathroom. "Fine. I'll just tell him it was me, he can think I'm a weirdo, and that'll be the end of it, whatever," she grumbles, standing up from the booth. Tugging on her jacket sleeves, she walks haltingly toward him. His back is to her, and she summons the courage to tap him on the shoulder, holding her breath as he turns around.

She's expecting confusion, a blank expression of indifference even—she's not expecting the look of shock, which she's pretty sure mirrors her own from when she first saw his name on the bathroom stall.

"Katniss?"

The sound of her name leaving his lips stuns her, and she almost forgets why she came over here. "I—you know who I am?" she asks stupidly, and he blinks, confusion finally creasing his brow.

"Well, yeah—wait, are you the one who texted me?"

Her eyes widened. "Oh—yea—no, I mean, no! I mean, _not exactly_." She cringes and gestures to her friends, who are watching them raptly. "My friend Johanna texted you, from my phone. Initially. I was the one who responded to you..."

He's just staring at her strangely, probably thinking about what a freak she is. She continues, "Anyway, I'm really sorry for the trouble. I just wanted to..." Do what, exactly? Say hi? To someone who barely knows her? "Well, I don't know, I guess I just wanted you to know who it was you were talking to so you know I'm not some creep or something. Which you probably think anyway," she laughs awkwardly.

He blinks again, the bizarre contortion of his face breaking, and he shakes his head. "Oh—no, I don't. Think that. Sorry. I'm just...surprised to see you here. I'm surprised it was you, I guess. I had no idea you were still around here..." he trails off, and she fidgets with her braid.

"Uh, yeah. Came back after college a couple years ago."

"Me too. Well, after business school. Took over my family's bakery."

"Oh." She makes a face to herself and laughs at her own ignorance. "Oh, of course. Right, that makes sense."

He's still staring at her strangely, but the bartender returns then. "Okay, I took care of it. I'm sorry about that, sir," she tells him, pouring a beer from the tap and sliding it to him. "On the house."

"Oh, thanks. I appreciate it," he says, taking the beer. Katniss is ready to slink back off to her friends, but Peeta turns back to her. "And I guess thank you for letting me know my services were being advertised all over Panem," he says with a wry smile, but she blushes in mortification.

"I swear I wasn't propositioning you, it was Johanna—"

He chuckles, waving her off. "I believe you. It's okay. I could barely get you to look at me in high school—I doubt you've changed that much that you're soliciting sex from strange men now."

She's dumbfounded—_I could barely get you to look at me_. What does that even mean? Her mouth parts wordlessly a few times before she can find a response. "Well...you're hardly a strange man," she says.

He laughs quietly. "I guess. Well, don't let the ad fool you. I think my reputation might have been greatly exaggerated," he protests self-deprecatingly with a slight grimace, taking a sip of his beer.

She's sure her cheeks are going to be stained permanently red as she mentally debates his bedroom credentials. "Apparently someone thinks highly enough of you," she rebuts, glancing away when he looks back at her.

"Well, thanks for letting me know—or tell your friend I said thanks, whoever deserves the credit," he jokes. "As you can imagine I don't exactly want my number plastered all over bathrooms around town."

She laughs softly. "Right, I'm sure it would be awkward for your girlfriend."

He regards her bizarrely, _again_, narrowing his eyes just barely. "I don't have a girlfriend," he says humorously, and she flushes, realizing that probably sounded like a come-on, like she's fishing for information on his relationship status. And she realizes that's exactly what she's doing. "I was speaking as a businessman more concerned about my bakery's family-friendly reputation."

"Oh. Right. Ha, of course." She wants to die—but first she wants to murder Johanna. "Uh, well, I should probably get back—"

"Katniss," Peeta interrupts her, an urgent look on his face. Her feet stop moving in the direction of her table, and she stares at him expectantly. He suddenly looks nervous, scrubbing a hand through his curls, but then he gestures to the bar, a small lopsided smile tugging at his mouth. "Can I buy you a drink?"

Katniss is so wholly unprepared for such a question that it takes him repeating the question a second time for her to process what he's asking her. And then she does the only thing she knows how.

"I—I can't."

She bolts.

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><p><em>Find me on tumblr as<em> **fuckingplebe**.


	2. Reacquaintance

_**a/n:** It's a two-for-one deal today, since the first chapter was basically already written._

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><p>Growing up, Katniss couldn't count the number of times she walked by the Mellark bakery, just to sneak a glimpse of Peeta, but she never had the guts to go in. At the time she told herself it was just to admire the lovely cake displays, which she eventually learned were crafted by Peeta's hands, but she could at least admit it to herself now, her true motives.<p>

Today, as she purposefully approaches the Mellark bakery, she finally does have the courage, taking a deep breath to steel herself and swinging the door open before she can inadvertently catch sight of him and lose her nerve. The aroma of yeast and butter and cinnamon greet her, and she takes a deep breath, halting only a few short steps into the bakery. And that's when she sees him, at the counter helping a customer.

He looks up, pausing mid-sentence as a flicker of surprise crosses his face, then he gives her a small, polite smile before resuming his conversation with the customer after a quick apology. Katniss shoves her hands into her coat pockets and pretends to peruse the selection of pastries on display while she waits for the customer to leave. The bell chimes a moment later, signaling that she and Peeta are finally alone, but she doesn't turn around just yet.

Stupidly, she hasn't quite worked out what to say to him. Because she's not entirely sure how he's going to react to her being here, after she shot him down at Sae's the other night. He looked so disappointed when she rejected his offer to buy her a drink, but she was just so shocked and flustered when he asked—and scared, if she's being honest with herself—all she could think to do was run back to her friends and scurry out of the bar.

Johanna and Madge gave her so much shit after (_"He was asking you out on a date, brainless!" _as Johanna so kindly put it). And even Katniss berated herself later as she tried to fall asleep. Because why in the world wouldn't she want to have a drink with Peeta fucking Mellark?

She's an idiot.

So here she is now, trying to...she's not sure what exactly, but she knows she can't leave it like she left it two nights ago.

She doesn't know how long she's been staring at the cinnamon rolls when she finally hears him speak. "Did you find my work address in a bathroom too?" he asks, and she whirls around, her eyes wide.

"No, you said—you mentioned you took over the bakery, and—I mean, I grew up here, I know where everything is," she says defensively, but he's smiling at her.

"I'm kidding, Katniss," he assures her, coming out from behind the counter to walk toward her. She clamps her mouth shut as she surreptitiously takes him in, with his flour-streaked gray slacks and white t-shirt stretched wide across his chest and shoulders underneath his dirty apron. His arms are lightly dusted in flour too, and her traitor eyes follow a prominent vein from his wrist to his elbow before she can force herself to look at his face. He stops by the display case she's standing in front of, his eyebrows raised. "What can I do for you?"

"Oh," she untucks her hands out of her pockets to brush some hair out of her face. "I was just...on my lunch break, and I thought I'd...come get something to eat," she finishes lamely, gesturing to the displays. Never mind the fact that she's never eaten here before in her life.

He nods anyway and wipes his hands on his apron, accepting her excuse. "What would you like?" he asks, all professional, and she catches her braid between her fingers to fidget with it absently. She can't stay still for some reason. It's like her entire body is vibrating.

"Um, I'm not really sure. What do you recommend?"

Peeta tips his head in the direction of the cinnamon rolls. "Well, you look like you were trying to communicate telepathically with those rolls just a moment ago, so I'd probably start with one of those if I were you."

Katniss laughs softly, tucking her chin against her chest. "Um, yeah, they look really good. I guess I'll have one of those," she says, and he nods with a smile, circling back around the counter to get to the other side of the case of cinnamon rolls. "I guess it's not a particularly healthy lunch though. Do you happen to have any salads or anything?" she asks jokingly, and he chuckles, pausing to brace his arms against the top of the display case.

"Not exactly. We've got some pastry puffs filled with feta cheese and spinach, if you think that fits your green leaf quota."

"Yeah, I might feel a little better about my life choices if you include one of those," she says, and he grins as he carefully selects a cinnamon roll and a pastry puff for her, wraps them, and bags them. Her stomach flutters slightly as she watches him, and she grips the strap of her messenger bag just to give her hands something to hold onto.

"So, where do you work?" he asks conversationally as he moves toward the register, and she follows.

"I'm an engineer with the town," she replies, and he lifts his eyebrows at her.

"Oh, wow. That's awesome. I mean, I always knew you were smart, but I didn't know you were going into engineering."

She flushes, averting her eyes. "The qualifications for the position weren't really that strenuous," she demurs and immediately wants to smack herself. She knows damn well that's not true, how hard she's worked for her degree and her job. She has no idea why she's suddenly so modest about her achievements in front of him.

Peeta shakes his head. "I'm sure you earned it."

Embarrassed and annoyed with herself, Katniss opens her bag on her hip and fishes for her wallet. "How much do I owe you?" she asks, but he just pushes the brown paper bag toward her.

"Nothing, it's on the house."

She stares at him then shakes her head adamantly. "No. I can pay for them."

He laughs. "With your fancy engineering job, I don't doubt that. But don't worry about it. Consider it thanks for the other night, since you wouldn't let me buy you a drink."

Her eyes go wide, and she's sure she's blushing all the way to the roots of her hair. His expression isn't bitter, so she thinks he's only teasing her, _again_, but she still wants to smack herself for turning him down. She is 24 years old—where's all the college-fortified bravado she built up over the last six years? Ashes in the face of an old high school crush, apparently.

Snapping her bag closed, Katniss edges closer to the counter to grab the pastries. "Thank you, Peeta," she says softly, clutching the bag to her chest. It's warm. "I guess I should get back to work..."

Peeta nods. "Sure. You're welcome to come back anytime, Katniss."

She turns around to leave, her metaphorical tail tucked between her legs, but she gets a whiff of the cinnamon roll in her bag, and she stops. Screwing up her courage once more, she faces him again. He's watching her quizzically, and she takes a step back toward him. "Peeta..." she starts, faltering slightly. "Maybe I can get that drink for you sometime. If you're still interested."

Surprise contorts his face, but then he smiles, a pleased dimple creasing his cheek. "Yeah. I am, very interested."

* * *

><p>Katniss drums her fingers on the table anxiously as she waits for Peeta. He agreed to meet her tonight at Sae's, but either she got here too early or he's late because she's been waiting almost 15 minutes for him, her beer nearly half-empty in an attempt to calm her growing agitation.<p>

She's just about ready to call it a wash, assuming he's stood her up, when he bursts through the door, his cheeks ruddy and his hair unkempt and wind-swept, like he just ran all the way across town from the bakery. She should be annoyed that he's so late, but instead the amount of relief that pools in her stomach at the sight of him scares her. She waves with a tentative smile when he spots her.

He jogs toward her and collapses in the booth opposite her. "I am _so _sorry I'm late. There was a flour accident in the back right as I was closing, which seriously _never_ happens, so I think the universe is screwing with me right now."

She raises her eyebrow. "A flour accident? I hope no cinnamon roll was injured."

Peeta laughs, shaking his head. "Luckily, every roll survived. I hope you haven't been waiting long. I'm sorry. I would have texted you, but since technically it was your friend who gave me your number and not _you_, I didn't know if it was allowed," he explains sheepishly.

"Oh. It's okay to text me," she tries to say nonchalantly and adds hastily, "It would have been better than thinking I'd been stood up."

He looks flummoxed by this. "Why would I stand you up?"

She blinks as she processes the sincerity of his question. "Well—I guess it could be payback for shooting you down the other night," she says wryly, picking at the corner of the label on her bottle of beer.

Shaking his head, he grins at her—just one corner curls up. "After 20 years, there was no way I was missing this," he replies, but the server interrupts to take his drink order before Katniss can ask what the hell he means by that, and when he turns his attention back to her, he's already changing the subject. "So I gotta talk shop for a moment, forgive me, but how did you like your lunch the other day?"

She widens her eyes and takes a quick swig of her beer. "Oh, god, it was all amazing," she exclaims after she swallows. "I only eat the stuff from a can normally, but that cinnamon roll was probably the best thing I've ever eaten."

He smiles, but she thinks she sees his cheeks turn a light pink. "Well, thank you. I'm really happy you liked it that much. That was actually a family recipe I tweaked a little, so I'm glad you approve."

"I can see why you took over the bakery then. You're good at what you do," she says, averting her eyes.

"Thank you," he replies, ducking his head. "I enjoy what I do. I'm lucky my brothers didn't want to take over the family business, I guess." The server returns with his beer, and Peeta thanks her with a polite smile and takes a hearty sip from his pint.

"Um, what do your brothers do now? They still live around here too?" she asks.

He shakes his head. "No, they're scattered around the country. Rye's a graphic designer, and Barm's a pharmacist. I went to business school, and when my parents decided to retire early, I inherited the bakery."

Katniss furrows her brow. "I thought you were pretty big into art in high school," she says without thinking, catching him by surprise. She sees the way his eyes widen and winces internally. Shit, she's revealed too much.

"Oh, you—I didn't know you were, uh...I didn't know you even noticed me in high school," he says, sounding a little flustered, but he offers a gruff chuckle before swigging his beer.

She can't meet his eyes when she speaks, keeping them drilled on her beer bottle, "I noticed."

When she finally glances up, he's got his face turned away slightly so he's not looking at her, but there's a stupid smile on his face. "Well," he finally offers but not much else, then he clears his throat and focuses his attention on her, bypassing the awkward turn in their conversation. "How did you get into engineering?"

She shrugs, trying to act like her face isn't completely on fire. "I don't know. My dad was an engineer. It seemed interesting when I was growing up. And I like math. It's easy. Unchangeable. It's always the same. It's kind of comforting."

He's staring at her so intently as he listens, a vague smile on his face. It widens some once she finishes. "I think you've got a bit of a poet in you, too."

Katniss laughs and shakes her head. "Hardly. I'll leave the smooth talking to you." She can feel herself relaxing, despite her nervousness; he's easy to talk to.

He scoffs and slouches in his booth. "If you think this is smooth talking, just wait till I get a couple more beers in me."

That sounds like a challenge, one she is keen to accept. "Well, in that case." Throwing a small smirk his way, Katniss then twists in her seat to flag the server down.

* * *

><p>The dart is pinched tightly between her thumb and forefinger, the point aligned with the board a couple yards in front of her. She keeps her elbow bent at a 90-degree angle as she aims, moistens her lips with her tongue, then she lets the dart fly from her hand. It nails the bullseye perfectly.<p>

The loud groan to her left catches her attention, and Katniss angles her head to glance at Peeta.

"_Again_? That's the third time you've hit the bullseye in this game alone," he gripes in disbelief, shaking his head as he grudgingly marks down her score on the whiteboard.

Shrugging, she strides over to the dartboard to retrieve the three darts, then she returns to where Peeta's standing and hands them over to him. "I did mention I was kind of a boss at darts," she says easily, taking a sip of beer after she hops up on the table. She's lost track of how long they've been there. They must have spent at least two hours just talking and drinking before they migrated over to the darts section in the corner. This is her longest first date ever, and she kind of doesn't want it to end.

And she's not really sure when she started thinking of it as a date, but she's not eager to correct herself.

"I thought you were just trying to get into my head, psych me out," Peeta laments as he steps up to the toe line. He doesn't aim yet, turning to look at her. "How the hell did you get so good at darts, anyway?"

She kicks her legs, the three beers coursing through her making her feel relaxed and loose and warm. Or maybe it's just Peeta making her feel this way. "I spent a lot of time doubling as my friend Gale's DD when I was still too young to drink. So I found ways to entertain myself while everyone else got drunk."

He nods but then pauses, tilting his head as he eyes her curiously. "Your friend? Not...your _ex-boyfriend _Gale?" he asks.

Her face flinches in mild disgust and shock. "_What_? God no, Gale's my friend. A brother really," she denies emphatically.

He looks relieved, if not slightly confused. "Oh. Weird, I guess everyone thought you two were dating in high school..." he trails off as he turns back to the board and takes aim. His first dart only hits a 2, the second goes awry and sticks into the wall, and the third hits a 7. She laughs when he groans in disappointment, but her mind is stuck on what he just said.

She contemplates it as he retrieves the darts, and when he walks back toward her, she concedes, "I mean, I guess he _maybe _liked me at some point in high school." It makes her uncomfortable to think about, just like it did back then, though she did her best to ignore it in the interest of preserving their friendship.

Peeta laughs unexpectedly. "Well, _that _much was obvious."

She wrinkles her nose at him. "What does that mean?"

He raises an eyebrow, handing the darts to her. "All anyone had to do was look at you two to see it," he drawls as she hesitantly takes the darts. Scooping the dry-erase marker up, he leans around her to write his score down. She stiffens at his proximity; he's so close, she can feel his body heat. She thinks she can smell his cologne or deodorant or _something; _it's enticing.

"And...what were you doing looking at me?" she asks softly, boldly. His arm freezes. Slowly, he leans back to look her in the eye. He's still so close to her, closer, even; at this distance she can make out the smattering of freckles on his nose. His lips curve ever so slightly, and her eyes are riveted to the pink, kissable flesh until she forces her eyes up to his, the blue wells flecked with gold drawing her in.

"You were impossible to miss." His voice drops an octave, and everything inside her aches at the sound, but then he's pulling away, putting some distance between them. His smile widens as he takes a step back. "And you don't forget the face of the first girl to hit on you."

She recoils. "What?!" she barks. "_The first_—what are you talking about?"

He laughs, his shoulders lifting in a shrug. "We were in the same preschool class. On the first day you told me I had pretty hair," he boasts proudly, rubbing a hand through his blond curls.

Her eyes are wide as she stares at him, heat pooling in her cheeks. "I don't remember that," she says uncertainly; she doesn't remember much from preschool. She didn't think she had any classes with him until high school, despite how small the town is. "Are you sure that was me?" she asks skeptically.

"Oh, yeah. It was definitely you. You had your hair in two braids back then though, not one."

Instinctively, Katniss' hand seeks out her braid to fidget with. She's seen pictures of herself in braided pigtails, at least. "Well...I guess at that point I had never seen blonde hair like yours before. My sister was born with a head full of black hair, and it didn't fall out for a while," she says defensively, sheepishly, then she looks at him strangely. "You have a remarkable memory."

He shakes his head. "Nah, I'm not even sure what I ate for breakfast yesterday," he dismisses as he gestures to the dartboard. "Can you put me out of my misery already, Everdeen?"

She does so, promptly. They don't leave for another hour, still, and even then she's reluctant to go. They linger outside the bar, dancing around awkward goodbyes, but when he learns that she walked to the bar, he's adamant about escorting her back to her apartment. She wants to argue that she's fine, that she's made the walk many nights on her own before, and actually she's a little indignant that he thinks she can't handle herself, but honestly, she can't bring herself to part from his company just yet. So she relents, and they fall into step side by side as they make the 10-minute trek to her apartment across town.

She's nervous as they walk, though the alcohol does a good job of keeping her anxiety at bay. But with him walking her back to her place, will he expect to come upstairs? Does he want her to invite him into her apartment? More importantly, does _she _want to invite him into her apartment?

She's not sure. It's too soon, isn't it? She can't be sure of what he wants, when she doesn't even know what _she_ wants.

The warmth and thrills coursing through her body at the idea are a bit of a dead giveaway, though.

Still, when they pause outside her apartment complex, she has to shove her hands into her coat pockets just to do something with her fidgety hands, and she can't quite meet Peeta's eyes head-on as he surveys the area.

"Oh, this place isn't too far from where my friend Delly lives," he says offhandedly, turning to look down the street. "Yeah, about three blocks that way, in the Thirteenth district."

Katniss' curiosity and suspicion is piqued, and she raises her eyebrows. "Delly?" she asks, hedging the mounting jealousy out of her voice.

Peeta nods as he faces her again. "Yeah, do you remember her? Delly Cartwright, she went to high school with us too."

Her brow pinches as she tries to think. "Delly...oh, she was—did she have big blonde hair?" she asks as she waves a hand around her head. He chuckles.

"Yeah. An ill-advised perm, I think she calls it these days."

Katniss smiles slightly. She kind of recalls the cheerleader who used to hang out with Peeta a lot in high school. She bites her tongue so she doesn't ask him what Delly is to him these days. _Friend_. That sounds innocent enough.

"Um, well..." she fishes uselessly for words.

"Ah, yeah, anyway," Peeta coughs, rubbing his neck. Her awkwardness seems to be contagious. He looks up at the building then back at her. "Well, I guess I can rest easy tonight knowing that you got home okay, so thanks for indulging me."

She laughs, clenching the material of her pockets in her fists. "Right. Now I just have to worry about you getting home."

He waves her off. "People know me. They wouldn't dare do anything to endanger their daily bread deliveries." He grins playfully, but it turns shy. "Well, I had a really great time, Katniss. Thank you for giving me a reason to get out of my house. With the bakery and all, I've become a bit of a hermit."

"I know what you mean," she agrees, thinking about her usual nightly routine of Netflix and the rickety old treadmill in her spare bedroom.

"Maybe we can do it again," he offers hopefully, but caution is heavy in his eyes still, and she's surprised, though she's not sure why. Surprised that he wants to see her again? Surprised that he doesn't want to come up? Surprised that she was ready for him to come up, that the invite was practically on the tip of her tongue?

Her mouth flaps silently for a moment as she grapples for a response until she can finally shake herself out of her stupor. "Yeah. Okay, yeah," she says with a weird, hoarse laugh, and he smiles, relieved.

"Okay. I'll talk to you later then."

And then there's a painful, uncomfortable moment where they just stand there uncertainly, unsure of the other's next move. When she sees him lean toward her, her heart leaps into her throat, and unbidden her eyes drift shut, and she begins to lean into him. But then she feels his lips on her cheek, and it's at once jarring and exhilarating, and she freezes in abject confusion and indecision.

The moment ends too soon, and all she's left with is the soft lingering impression of his lips on her skin and his scent in her lungs. As he pulls back, her eyes fixate on his mouth, missing the way his do the same to hers, but he straightens and gives her a smile, tucking his hands into his pockets.

"Have a good night, Katniss."

"Ha-have a good night, Peeta," she murmurs, too dazed to watch him step around her and walk away. She stands on her stoop, wondering what the hell just happened, before finally dragging herself inside.

* * *

><p><em>Find me on tumblr as<em> **fuckingplebe**.


	3. Rekindling

_**a/n: **Thank you so much for the response on this story so far! Your reviews and interest mean a lot. I hope you enjoy this chapter too!_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Johanna M [Nov 6, 2014 2:17 pm]:<strong> So did he put it in you?_

_**Madge U [Nov 6, 2014 2:19 pm]:** Lol Yes, inquiring minds want to know_

Katniss scowls at the group text with Johanna and Madge, her cheeks flooding with heat. She's embarrassed on multiple levels, namely that her friends assume she got laid on her date with Peeta. And maybe just a little bit because the answer is no, Peeta Mellark _did not put it in her_.

_**Katniss E [Nov 6, 2014 2:19 pm]:** None of your business_

But of course, Johanna is not the kind to be dissuaded and does in fact believe it _is _her business.

_**Johanna M [Nov 6, 2014 2:20 pm]:** Well you're no fun.  
>I'm going to assume Peeta realized this too and that's why you didn't get laid.<em>

Katniss huffs, but there's really no point in denying it.

_**Katniss E [Nov 6, 2014 2:21 pm]:** That's not what I said.  
>But no we didn't have sex. It was only drinks.<em>

_**Johanna M [Nov 6, 2014 2:21 pm]:** That's usually enough for me ;)_

_**Madge U [Nov 6, 2014 2:22 pm]:** Yeah we know, Jo :P  
>But Peeta's probably a gentleman. I'm sure he wouldn't try to push Katniss for sex so soon.<em>

_**Katniss E [Nov 6, 2014 2:23 pm]:** Yes, a perfect gentleman._

Katniss is grateful for Madge, for numerous reasons, but not least because her unassuming explanation has calmed Katniss' own doubts about Peeta. She wrestled all night with their date, wondering why he didn't kiss her, wondering if he wasn't interested in her beyond a platonic way, wondering if the chemistry she felt was just a figment of her imagination, the result of a long-denied high school crush.

He was just being nice. Respectful. He asked her on a second date, didn't he? He has to be somewhat interested.

Then again, she hasn't heard from him yet, no follow-up about another date...

_**Johanna M [Nov 6, 2014 2:25 pm]:** Ugh "gentleman," sounds boring.  
>Let me know when shit actually gets interesting.<em>

_**Katniss E [Nov 6, 2014 2:26 pm]:** I'll be sure to tell you last._

Katniss slips her phone back into her bag, but it pings with another text before her fingers release it, and with a roll of her eyes she pulls it back out to read whatever crude message Johanna's sent her now.

But she's shocked to see it's a text from Peeta, a picture message, and she nearly drops the phone on her desk in her haste to open it. It's a picture of the cinnamon rolls from his bakery; the text underneath it reads: _No pressure or anything, but I think my cinnamon rolls miss you._

She smiles to herself, a big, stupid smile that would mortify her if she could see herself right now, and she silently debates her response. Finally, she replies: _Just the cinnamon rolls?_

_**Peeta M [Nov 6, 2014 2:30 pm]:** Well I don't want to speak for them, but I think the spinach and feta puffs do too._

_**Katniss E [Nov 6, 2014 2:30 pm]:** No offense to the puffs but I think I only have eyes for the cinnamon rolls._

_**Peeta M [Nov 6, 2014 2:31 pm]:** I respect your commitment.  
>And I'd hate to stand in the way of true love, would you like me to arrange a rendezvous for you and the rolls?<em>

Katniss stares at the screen, trying to dissect his words. He's flirting with her, but she's never been great at these kinds of social intricacies; if he wants to see her again, why doesn't he just ask outright? His verbal misdirect leaves her unsure how to interpret his intentions and respond. She finally settles on an appropriately noncommittal reply that still leaves the ball in his court.

_**Katniss E [Nov 6, 2014 2:33 pm]:** I'll allow it._

_**Peeta M [Nov 6, 2014 2:33 pm]:** I can also make you dinner, to sweeten the deal._

Well, that's a little more direct, at least. She chews the corner of her lip, another smile slipping through.

_**Katniss E [Nov 6, 2014 2:34 pm]:** I can't say no to food._

_**Peeta E [Nov 6, 2014 2:35 pm]:** A girl after my own heart.  
>How about Saturday night? We can eat at your place, if you'd like.<em>

She frowns, confused. At her place?

_**Katniss E [Nov 6, 2014 2:37 pm]:** IDK if I'll have everything you need...I'm not a fancy baker like you._

_**Peeta M [Nov 6, 2014 2:38 pm]:** Don't worry about it. A good cook always comes prepared._

Katniss questions this, gnawing on an errant hangnail on her thumb. She doesn't understand why they wouldn't just have dinner at his place, if he wanted to cook. The arrangement seems weird, impractical. Exhaling her bewilderment, she decides to just go with it. What does it matter where they meet at?

_**Katniss E [Nov 6, 2014 2:40 pm]:** 7 pm?_

_**Peeta M [Nov 6, 2014 2:41 pm]:** It's a date._

* * *

><p>Despite her skepticism, Katniss is thrumming with nervous excitement the day of her date with Peeta. In a misguided attempt to run off her anxiety, she nearly busts her chin on her treadmill, sprinting at a speed way beyond her usual pace; when her left foot catches on her right ankle, she only barely manages to grab onto the console and hoist herself back up before flying off the back. That would have been wonderful, a split, bloody chin, just in time for her date. She does bite the inside of her lip hard enough to taste blood, though.<p>

As she showers and straightens up her apartment, she can't stop herself from periodically running the tip of her tongue over the tender, swollen laceration. She can just imagine Johanna ribbing her, _"Already falling head over heels for this guy, eh, brainless?"_

Around 6 p.m., Katniss starts to ready herself for Peeta's arrival, taking her time to pick out an outfit: skinny jeans and a wine-colored, form-hugging, long-sleeved shirt. She applies a little eye makeup and lip gloss, which is already two steps more than her usual makeup regiment. She debates what to do with her hair, even considers leaving it down in an uncharacteristic manner, but in a split-second decision induced by self-conscious panic, she plaits it into her usual side braid.

And, before she leaves her bedroom, she fixes her bed, tucking the sheets in and smoothing the comforter down. Just in case he needs to use her bathroom, she tells herself.

It's 6:58 p.m. when a firm knock rattles the front door, and Katniss very deliberately and slowly lifts herself from her couch and strides to the door to answer it, trying not to seem too eager. Peeta's on the other side, his face igniting with a smile at the sight of her. It's infectious, and she's grinning shyly at him too as she opens the door wider to allow him inside.

"Hey," he greets, stepping inside when she moves out of the way. He's got a cooler in one hand, and a black bag slung over his other shoulder.

"Hi." She shuts the door. "Can I help you with that?"

He turns to face her, shaking his head. "Just show me where the kitchen is," he says, but he takes a moment to look at her, and she doesn't miss the way his eyes rake over the entire length of her body appreciatively. "You look beautiful."

She blushes, suppressing her involuntary shiver. "Thank you. You do too." And he does, his short blond waves falling effortlessly around his ears, his blue eyes set off by his blue henley. His gray jeans compliment the cut of his hips and thighs wonderfully. She wants to reach out and touch him, run her fingers down the seam of his pants, but she strokes her braid instead, twisting the frayed end around her index finger.

Peeta grins. "Well, thank you. You know, people don't realize it, but sometimes guys like to be told they're beautiful too."

She folds her arms over her chest and raises an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Pretty, even. Pretty works too."

Shaking her head, she laughs and points to her kitchen. "Come on, I think you promised me dinner. And cinnamon rolls."

He follows her, setting his cooler and bag on the counter. "Nuh uh. I'm holding these cinnamon rolls hostage until after dinner. I'm not convinced you're not going to just take the rolls and push me out the door," he jokes, and she tries not to smile too wide at him. She feels like she's smiling too much. She must look like a giddy school girl.

"I'd at least wait to see what you're making me for dinner before I throw you out," she says seriously, peeking into his cooler as he rifles through it. "Which is what, by the way?" He asked her about her food preferences yesterday, whether she had any diet restrictions, and she told him anything was fair game, but he didn't give her a hint about what he decided to make.

"I put together a menu of sage-brined chicken with a brown sugar glaze, paired with roasted fingerling potatoes and sauteed spinach, how does that sound?" he asks, pulling out the ingredients he just listed and spreading them out on the counter.

Her eyes bulge. "Oh—that's—I thought you'd just do something like spaghetti, but you're going all out," she breathes in awe, and his hands still, his eyebrow quirked.

"Well, if you'd prefer that, there's still time. I can run to the grocery store—" His tone is playful, but she can see the apprehension in his eyes, and her hands fly out to stop him.

"No! I mean, this is, this sounds great. I'm just shocked. You didn't have to go to this much trouble," she exclaims, her chest flushing under her shirt. "Can I do something to help?"

He smiles at her, his pinky finger brushing her knuckles as her hand settles beside his on the bag of potatoes. "Just give me the pleasure of your company while I cook."

She chuckles uncertainly. "Okay, I guess I can manage that." Reluctantly, she draws her hand away and pulls back from the counter to cross to her wine rack. "Would you like something to drink? I have alcohol," she offers, glancing back at him.

"I was hoping you would say that," he laughs, and she smiles at him, her fingers dancing across the corked mouths of the different bottles.

"Red or white?" she asks.

His expression turns sheepish. "I know I should be more cultured and say red, but...is white okay?"

She laughs. "To be honest, I only keep wine around because I thought it was the adult thing to do," she admits, selecting a chardonnay because hell if she really knows the difference.

He laughs, too. "I just cook with the stuff, I have no idea how to drink it either. And my fridge is normally stocked with Bud Light or Coors, anyway."

Popping the cork with a cork screw, Katniss pours them two glasses of wine and hands one to him. He smiles his thanks, and she takes a experimental sip of the wine. It's tart, dry, a little bland, and she scrunches her nose as she watches him sip his. "I guess I should have chilled it, huh?"

He shrugs, licking his lips. She tries not to stare at his mouth. "I'll look the other way if you want to throw some ice cubes in it," he says sincerely, making her laugh again. She downs her glass in two gulps before deciding to grab one of the PBRs in her fridge, and she settles on a stool on the other side of the bar—out of his way but where she can still watch him cook while they chat. It's hard not to leer at him, especially when his back is turned to her and bent over the stove; she's mesmerized by the movement of his muscles under the thin cotton of his shirt, and she has to force her eyes away from his ass multiple times, blushing when he turns to talk to her, oblivious to the fact that she's been mentally undressing him with her eyes.

The aroma of chicken and roasted potatoes soon fills her apartment, and it's intoxicating, enough to distract her from admiring his form; she's practically drooling by the time the food is finished, and he plates everything with practiced precision. She cringes when she remembers she forgot to clear off the dining table, which is buried under stacks of mail and old newspapers. She normally just eats on her couch, parked in front of the TV.

"That's okay. How's your coffee table?" he asks when she apologizes. She tosses the remote controls onto the couch and shoves some magazines under the side tables, and he sets the plates down on the coffee table. She grabs her beer and a new can for him, joining him on the floor. "Thank you," he says, accepting the PBR.

"I should be the one thanking you. For making me dinner."

Peeta shakes his head. "You did me a favor. It's nice cooking for someone else."

With a smile, Katniss picks up her utensils and cuts a piece of chicken to eat. It's sweet and savory and tender, and she has to swallow a moan. Her approval must be written all over her face, though, because Peeta is watching her, smiling. "Good?" he asks, and she nods.

"Amazing," she says genuinely, scooping some of the potatoes and spinach onto her fork to try as well. It's all delicious, and they eat in near-silence, Katniss more interested in tasting and savoring all the food. The quiet isn't awkward; she feels comfortable, relaxed, and he doesn't push her to talk other than a few questions or comments here and there.

Once she's finished, he finally opens the conversation a little more, leaning back against her couch. "So what's your favorite color?"

She can't help but laugh. "My favorite color?"

He smiles. "I feel like it's important to know even the most trivial things about a person. And someone's favorite color says a lot about them, I think."

"Well, I like green. What does that say?" she asks languidly, twirling a coaster on the coffee table.

He squints, pretending to study her. "Green...green is for money and greed, so you're obviously very superficial and money-hungry," he deadpans.

She nods. "Yep. That sounds exactly like me. What's your favorite color?"

"Orange."

She almost laughs, not quite expecting that answer, but she considers this, pursing her lips thoughtfully. "So, what that says about you is...you're a traffic cone."

Peeta laughs loudly. "Quite an accomplished traffic cone, at least." She grins at him; the sound of his laugh is thrilling, and it makes his handsome face even handsomer. She wants to move closer, to touch the side of her body to his, but she doesn't. "I actually don't own any orange clothes. I don't know why," he muses.

She shrugs, resting her head on the couch as she looks up at him. "It's a hard color to pull off."

"Unless you're a basketball. Or a tiger," he says, and she laughs softly. He angles his head toward her, falling quiet as he looks at her. Her laughter peters out until she's silent too, her breathing escalating as they stare at each other; she studies his face, her eyes darting from his eyes to his lips to his cheeks to his nose. She can see his eyes doing the same, and her stomach flutters dangerously.

He clears his throat suddenly, breaking the spell, and he glances to the couch and then the TV. "Uh, you want to watch a movie or something?"

She blinks rapidly for a few seconds before she nods, lifting her head. "Sure," she says quietly, pulling herself up onto the couch. He follows suit, settling in beside her. They're only barely touching, his thigh grazing hers; she itches to sink into him, curl under his arm, but cuddling on her couch is probably too intimate for a second date, right? It's strange how comfortable she already feels around him.

They decide on "A Fish Called Wanda," though it takes Katniss a while to choose because Peeta leaves it up to her, having no real preference for what they watch. She picks a comedy because it feels safe and funny, not likely to bring down the mood. About 15 minutes into the movie, Peeta shifts restlessly beside her for a long moment, crossing and uncrossing his ankle over his knee; she watches him curiously from the corner of her eye. Finally, he stills and turns his body toward hers, just barely. His arm that was resting on his leg comes up, like he means to put it around her, but he hesitates. "Is this okay?" he asks uncertainly, and she's briefly rattled by his question.

"Um—yeah, yes, if you want, I mean," she agrees readily, leaning forward so he can drape his arm around her shoulders. This forces her closer to his side, her head tucked against his chest, almost in the crook of his neck. She's stiff only for a second until she adjusts to the position, to his proximity. All it takes is a deep inhale of his scent, clean and masculine, for her to melt into his embrace.

"Are you comfortable?" he asks quietly, and she nods.

"Yes," she whispers, and while her body is relaxed, her heart is pounding, just a little. His heart beat is strong and steady under her ear. It lulls her into a state of ease and security, and they don't move from their seat for a while until, reluctantly, Peeta gets up to retrieve the promised cinnamon rolls.

She'd almost rather say fuck the rolls and have him stay put.

Of course, as soon as she takes a bite of the roll, she changes her mind. "These are even better than before," she tells him, despite her mouthful. He grins at her and eats at a more leisurely pace than she does. She's not even hungry, thanks to dinner, but she scarfs the roll down. In her haste, she accidentally nips on the tender spot on the inside of her mouth from her earlier treadmill misstep, and she winces, swallowing. The wound throbs a little, and after she finishes eating, she can't stop herself from absently running her tongue over the spot.

Peeta picks up on her discomfort. "You okay?" he asks, setting his plate on the coffee table.

She spares him a sheepish look as the movie credits begin to roll. "Yeah. I just...I was running earlier and tripped and, uh, kind of bit the inside of my mouth. Just hurts a little," she says with an embarrassed laugh, once again touching the tip of her tongue to the spot.

He looks concerned. "You tripped? Outside? Was it bad?"

Heat fills her face. "Ah, no. It was on my treadmill. It wasn't bad, honest," she says quickly. She juts her bottom lip in a pout to show him. He smiles at her, relieved, but he brings his hand up to her face, cradling her cheek so he can touch her lip with his thumb. Surprised, she freezes, her eyes locked on his face as he examines her lip, the callused pad of his thumb lightly probing the delicate flesh. He's leaning in, his long, fair eyelashes fluttering as his eyes scan the wound.

"Looks painful," he murmurs, his blue eyes peeking back up at hers.

"A little bit," she whispers, struggling against the impulse to flick her tongue against the tip of his thumb.

His thumb is still caressing her lip, but he's just staring at her now, his eyes darkening. She doesn't break his gaze as he leans closer, and her breath sticks in her throat when he kisses her lip tenderly, once, twice. He lingers, searching her eyes for approval, reassurance. He must find it because then he sucks her lip between his, gently laving the tender flesh with his tongue. Her mouth opens wider, in shock and pleasure, and when she feels his lips release hers, parting slightly, she slants her mouth against his, a moan leaking out of her as her tongue touches his.

And then he's kissing her greedily, a sharp intake of air through his nose as he seals their mouths together completely, stroking her tongue with his. His palm tilts her face before sliding to the back of her neck, entangling his fingers in her hair. Katniss clutches at his jaw with both hands, squeezing her eyes shut as she nips and sups and swallows. He tastes both sweet and tart, with an underlying bitterness from the hoppiness of the beer, and she wants to drink him in completely.

Her body is twisted at an awkward angle toward his, but he rectifies this, pushing her back against the couch and pivoting so he's leaning over her, hovering just barely. She sighs into his mouth, a breathy whine he inhales himself, deepening the kiss as he emits a soft groan of his own.

Her body feels like a live wire, electricity humming through her like a storm brewing, the thunder rumbling low in her belly, between her thighs. She throbs with each swipe of his tongue in her mouth, arousal pooling steadily in her panties at an alarming rate. She's pretty sure she can feel the edge of his erection just barely grazing her thigh, and if she were to shift just enough, only enough to press against it, he might get the hint to touch her more, kiss her neck, grab a breast, _something_. She needs more, whatever he's offering.

But her subtle maneuver backfires, and when she rubs up against his erection, he inhales harshly before halting the kiss. Her eyes snap open at the sudden disruption, and he's looking at her too, their lips just barely whispering against each other. His pupils are fat and black, but then he's blinking, the spell broken, and he places a last, chaste kiss to seal the moment before pulling back.

"Sorry, I hope that didn't make your lip hurt worse," he says contritely.

She can barely breathe; her lip is the least of her concerns. Any pain has been regenerated into pure bliss at this point. "N-no, it's...good, that was good." Her cheeks warm even more than they already had, and he chuckles gruffly.

"Yeah...yeah, it was. Really, really...I..." He sighs, sitting up and scrubbing a hand through his hair. "I should...it's getting late, so I should probably, ah, I gotta get home, I mean." Her confusion must scrawl across her face at his words because he backpedals immediately, "I've gotta open the bakery early, I mean. I'm sorry."

Katniss swallows her disappointment and hurt, forcing a tight smile as she nods. "Of course. Um. Thank you for dinner and...for coming over." She can't meet his eyes, training her unfocused stare on her knee, but Peeta touches her hand, curling his palm around hers.

"Katniss. Thank you for letting me come over and cook for you. I know it was probably a bit of an imposition," he says, squeezing her fingers, and suddenly she understands. It makes sense now, why he wanted to come over to her place instead of inviting her to his.

So he could make his break, like he's doing now. In case the date went bad, in case he realized that he didn't like her, that she was weird and boring or that she was a crazy cat lady or something. Well, he's wrong about that because she hates cats, Katiss thinks, anger spiking through her.

She doesn't voice any of this, though. She just nods at him, forcing another, wider smile when it becomes clear he won't let go of her hand until she does, his blue eyes pinning her to the spot. "It wasn't an imposition," she says tightly, and concern flickers in his eyes, but she stands up before he can push it any further. "Let me help you clean up."

They clean up together, packing his supplies back into his cooler and bag. He tries to make light conversation, but she's too humiliated to contribute more than half-hearted replies, and she's just ready for him to leave, even with his taste still burning her lips.

Finally, he heads for the door, and she straggles behind him, her arms crossed over her stomach. When he turns to face her, his hand on the doorknob, his brow is creased, and there's an urgency in his voice. "Katniss—" But he stops himself, gives an imperceptible shake of his head, and he clears his expression. "I'll call you, okay? Or text. You seem like more of a texter, right?"

She shrugs. "Sure," she says noncommittally. Peeta sighs to himself and then, uncertainly, leans forward to press a goodbye kiss to her mouth. Despite the confusion and insult clouding her brain, her body sparks at the pressure, and she savors the fleeting touch. Then he gives her a small smile before shutting the door behind him.

* * *

><p>"What do you mean you don't think it's going to work?"<p>

Madge's voice is incredulous on the other end of the phone, and Katniss shrugs as she stares at the ceiling from her bed, even though her friend can't see her.

"I just don't think he's that into me," she replies simply, and Madge makes a skeptical sound on her end of the phone.

"I don't believe that. What happened?"

Katniss sighs as she mentally replays the end of her and Peeta's date from earlier that night. She thought about calling Johanna, but she isn't particularly interested in her friend's tough-love approach to relationships. Madge is kinder, more thoughtful, rational. Katniss feels more comfortable talking to her about this sort of situation.

"I don't know. He came over, made dinner, and we were having a good time, the conversation and chemistry seemed to be there. But then...he kissed me, and—"

"He kissed you?!" Madge exclaims excitedly, and Katniss scowls despite her blush.

"Yes, calm down. We're not in high school anymore; this really isn't that scandalous."

"Okay, okay, you're right, sorry, but—well, technically, it's _kind_ of like being back in high school, since it's Peeta."

"_Anyway,_" Katniss stresses. "We kissed. And it was great. At least, I thought it was. But then he stopped it and said he had to leave."

"Oh."

Katniss' heart sinks a little at that. Somewhere inside herself, she was hoping her friend might be able to talk her out of her growing doubt. "Yeah. Oh."

Her friend hums thoughtfully. "Well...did he say he wanted to see you again?"

"Yea—" Katniss stops herself as she thinks back on their conversation before he left. Her frown deepens. "Actually, no. He didn't. He just said _I'll call or text you_."

Madge makes another skeptical sound in the back of her throat. "Well, that's...weird. But I don't think it _definitely_ means he's not into you or doesn't want to see you again," she says hopefully. "Maybe...um...you know, maybe he just wants to take it slow."

Katniss shakes her head, absently picking at a thread on her comforter. "I don't think so. I mean, some woman actually advertised him in a bathroom, Madge. _Best sex of your life_. That really doesn't sound like someone who just takes it slow. It sounds like someone who gets around," she complains sourly, the embarrassment of being rejected only stinging sharper.

"I mean, it's a little bizarre," Madge laughs. "Sorry, I'm not trying to make you feel worse—I guess I just wonder who the hell wrote that, you know?"

"I don't know. I don't care," Katniss says bitterly, which isn't true. She does care, she does want to know what woman Peeta apparently finds more attractive, more desirable, and more deserving of his attentions than her. "I think you guys were wrong from the start. He wasn't trying to ask me on a date that first night in the bar and was just being polite when I offered to buy him drinks later, and then I trapped him into a second date."

"You're being too hard on yourself," Madge chastises her. "Why would he want to come to your place if that were the case?"

Katniss twists her mouth doubtfully. "So he could bail at any time."

Madge sighs. "He'll call you."

"I doubt it—"

"If nothing more than to let you down gently; he seems polite like that," Madge interrupts her, but if that's supposed to be reassuring, it's definitely not. Katniss groans.

"Oh god, no, I'd rather he just disappear into the ether, never to be heard from or seen again."

Madge laughs. "Just stop dwelling on it, okay? I know you, Katniss. Don't beat yourself up over it. If it doesn't work out, it's just a failed dating experience; everyone has that."

"Yeah, yeah," Katniss grumbles. She decides she's had enough of her pity party—and she's sure Madge has too—so she changes the subject to work and the latest episode of "Brooklyn 99" before they eventually hang up.

Her thoughts drift back to Peeta, however. With an aggravated sigh, she rolls over onto her stomach, burying her face in her bedspread, and she thinks bitterly to herself,_ Lesson learned: This is why high school crushes should _stay_ in high school.  
><em>

* * *

><p><em>I'll be working on a Prompts in Panem fic for the next week, so the next update for this story will be a little longer in coming, probably not till after the new year. Find me on tumblr at <strong>fuckingplebe<strong> and make sure you check out the many sure-to-be wonderful holiday fics from all the authors on **promptsinpanem**'s tumblr page next weekend, Dec. 20!_


	4. Reassurance

_**a/n:** Sorry for the delay. I'm working on a story for Smut 2 Save Lives (if you're unfamiliar with this project, check out **s2sl** on tumblr for more information on how to donate and how you can read all the sure-to-be wonderfully smutty stories by some awesome authors), so this story is a secondary priority right now. But I think there's only two more chapters to get through (I told you it would be a short WIP!) and I know what I want to happen in them—now, I just gotta make myself write it._

_Thank you for the feedback, I appreciate each and every review!_

* * *

><p>To Katniss' surprise, Peeta shows up at her office at town hall a few days later. He's standing by his car, leaning against the driver's side door, when she pulls up. She was out of the office most of the morning, reviewing a zoning site for a public works project; she has no idea how long he's been waiting. Or why he's waiting for her at all.<p>

They've been texting, though Katniss has been noticeably more reticent on her end. She's still confused by his actions and his rejection. She thought their date Saturday night was going to be the end of their short-lived courtship, but for some reason, Peeta still wants to talk to her. And flirt with her. But he hasn't asked her out again.

So her confusion has morphed into frustration and a forced apathy, and when she gets out of her car, she approaches him with her guard up, a frown etched into her face—despite the way her stomach flips at the sight of him and his stupid dimpled smile.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, trying to remain indifferent to his presence. She stops about two feet in front of him, her arms reflexively crossing over her chest. God, anyone watching them right now would think she has a legitimate reason to be angry with him. A normal 24-year-old adult probably shouldn't be this wounded and hostile about being rejected, but Katniss doesn't put herself out there often, so this smarts more than it should.

Peeta pushes off his car, smiling sheepishly as he closes the distance between them. She almost expects him to hug her (_hopes, really_), but he just shoves his hands into his pockets. "I had the day off from the bakery, so I thought I'd see if you wanted to get lunch. They told me inside that you'd be back soon. Is this creepy?" he asks honestly, raising an eyebrow.

"A little," she shrugs, though she's not freaked out.

He nods. "I guess I figured you'd already set the precedent for showing up at the other's place of work unannounced."

She's surprised by this, jerking back as if his words physically slapped her. Her cheeks bloom with embarrassment. "You work at a bakery. It's a little different," she says defensively, but he just laughs.

"I was kidding. I'm sorry. Actually, I wish you would swing by my bakery more often," he says, shrugging his shoulders. She eyes him suspiciously, perplexed.

"Well." She's not entirely sure what to say. "If you want me to come by, you can just ask," she says uncertainly.

Peeta smiles. "Is there no room for spontaneity here?"

She levels him with a look. "I'm an engineer," she deadpans, but his smile doesn't waver.

"Engineers still gotta eat though, right?" he prods, and she nods grudgingly. "So let me feed you. Let's get lunch—if you can spare the time."

She blinks, her arms unfolding to drop by her sides. "You want to get lunch?" she repeats, stunned.

His eyebrows lift. "You make it sound like I just proposed we run off and get eloped or something."

She's not sure she could be anymore confused right now. "Um...okay, I guess that—yeah," she fumbles with her words like she's a high school girl all over again. "I just...need to drop this off inside." She waves the folder of documents and her notes on the zoning site at him, and he just smiles.

"I'll wait."

* * *

><p>They go to a nearby cafe and deli shop, The Hob. Katniss eats there often, but it's not a place Peeta is very familiar with, so he defers to her food recommendations. She suggests the veggie sandwich, and that's what they both order.<p>

"Did you know that a hob is a magical creature from Germanic folklore?" he throws out randomly, popping one of the jalapenos that fell off his sandwich into his mouth.

She arches her eyebrow dubiously, swallowing her mouthful. "It also just refers to a part of the fireplace," she says. "That's probably the likelier inspiration."

He shakes his head. "Not as cool, though. I'd go with my explanation if I were the owner."

"Yeah, Ripper would love advice on how to run her business, make sure you tell her that," Katniss says wryly, taking another bite of her sandwich.

Peeta smiles at her. "You friends with the owner?" he asks before biting off the corner of his own sandwich.

Katniss shrugs. "I know her well enough. She caters at town hall a lot."

"And her name is _Ripper_?" he clarifies, and she nods. "Sounds like I should keep my business expertise to myself then."

She laughs mid-bite, trying not to spray avocado and red peppers everywhere. Once she gets the bite of sandwich safely into her mouth, she sets the remaining half down on her plate. Peeta's watching her, a barely suppressed grin ghosting his lips, and she frowns self-consciously. "What?"

He gestures to her mouth. "You just have sauce on your chin," he explains, but his hand is already reaching for her face, his thumb tenderly wiping the chipotle cream sauce from the corner of her mouth. She stiffens at the contact, her heart fluttering obnoxiously, and they lock eyes. It's a painfully intimate gesture, and his hand seems to linger on her face for an improbable length of time before he pulls back, clearing his throat.

He doesn't look uncomfortable, but his smile tics nervously, and he cleans his hand off on a napkin before dropping it in his lap. "So I guess I had other motives for inviting you out to lunch today," he begins, and she purses her lips uneasily.

"Okay..." she trails off, giving him the go-ahead to explain.

He scratches the back of his neck, then he exhales a puff of air on a short laugh. "Well, I get the feeling that you're a little frustrated with me—or rather, I hope it's just frustration and not disinterest," he says.

"I'm not—" She searches for a defense, but he stops her, which is good because she's not entirely sure what to say.

"You don't have to explain yourself. I'm not asking you to. That's actually what I'm trying to do."

Katniss chews on her bottom lip, more out of anxiety than anything else; she's not sure what he's going to say. Is this where he lets her down politely? In a public place in case she causes a scene? Damn Madge for accurately predicting the bounds of Peeta's civility!

"Look. About the other night at your place..." He takes a deep breath, not quite meeting her eyes as he seems to be debating his response. Finally, he releases it, holding her gaze. "I like you."

Her eyes nearly double in size. She's sure she looks comical. "Oh," she says, flushing hotly under the collar of her jacket. She wasn't expecting _that_.

He likes her.

_Peeta Mellark_ likes _her_.

Suddenly, she grows wary. Where's the 'but'? His setup sounds like there's an addendum to follow.

"But...?" she prompts him suspiciously, demands, really, and his eyes go large under his raised eyebrows.

"Oh, no, there's no but to that." He smiles at her. "I just...wanted you to know that. I'm sorry if I've been acting weird. I'm just rusty at this whole dating thing."

Her eyelids flutter as she processes his confession. "Oh," she repeats dumbly, suddenly finding her sandwich extremely interesting as she fidgets with the crust of her bread. She should say something more, admit her own feelings for him, anything, so he's not just left hanging there, but the words stick in her throat. It's scary. She's not sure she's ready to put it out there into the universe.

If he's discouraged by her lack of response, he doesn't reveal so. Instead, he continues talking, "And I just wanted to let you know that I'm not dating anyone else right now."

She cuts her eyes to him sharply in alarm. "Is that something you normally do, date multiple people at once?" she asks, though it's more of an accusation. She didn't really consider that before, that he could be seeing other women at the same time, but now the idea's been planted in her head, jealousy immediately sprouting.

But Peeta shakes his head. "Uh, no. Not at all." He laughs awkwardly. "I guess that was my attempt to, ah...tell you I'm seeing you, exclusively. And I guess to see if you shared my feelings on the exclusivity of us...dating." He looks incredibly uncomfortable now, his ears turning pink. "I told you I was rusty at this."

"_Oh._" She stares at him, actually gaping at him until she forces her mouth closed, and she shakes her head. "You want to...date me exclusively," she reiterates, not quite believing it.

"Yeah. I guess that's what I'm asking," he says, shrugging helplessly. "If this is too soon for you, I get it. I don't want to pressure you. I just wanted you to know where I stand."

She swallows hard after a moment before replying, "I don't...I don't date more than one guy at a time, Peeta."

His mouth spreads into a barely restrained smile, and he nods. "Okay. So we're on the same page."

"Looks like it," she agrees, and even though she's bewildered and uncertain, she can't stop her own giddy smile from tugging at the corners of her mouth. She hastily takes another bite of her sandwich to stop the grin before it splits her face in half or something.

After lunch, Peeta drives her back to her office. They linger in his car, the engine idling, and Peeta twists in his seat to face her. "Let me take you out tonight. Or tomorrow. Whenever you're available," he murmurs, and there's an urgency to his request.

She should play coy, make him wait or whatever dumb games people play these days. "I'm available tonight," she says instead, hedging the eagerness out of her voice.

He smiles, relieved, and he inhales deeply, but there's a dark intensity to his gaze as he stares at her. Unconsciously, she bites her lip, her stomach knotting in anticipation. She's not sure who leans in first—maybe they both do at the same time—but suddenly they're kissing the next moment, their mouths slanting together in a desperate, heady clash of lips and tongues. Peeta cradles her face in his hands as she fists his shirt in her hands, trying to pull him over the center console, or climb over it, but the seat belts lock them to their seats.

This time, Katniss is the one who stops the kiss, and only because she's worried one of her colleagues might see them. With a sharp inhale, she releases his wet lips, licking his saliva off her own, savoring the taste on her tongue. "I should—I really gotta get back to work," she pants, and he groans in disappointment but nods, his head dropping forward slightly.

"Yeah, I know. Tonight, though, right?"

He's only referring to the date, she's sure, but there seems to be the promise of something more, especially on the heels of such a heated kiss. She feels dizzy all of a sudden and manages a nod. "Yeah. Call me later."

He lifts his head to meet her eyes; they're dark and hooded, but the fond half-smile softens his face. "Call?"

She nods again, smiling as well. "Yeah. Call me. Talking is better." Better than texting, she means. Hearing his voice doesn't leave as much room for misinterpretation as texts do. And admittedly, his voice is becoming an increasingly addictive drug.

His grin widens. "Okay. I'll call you later."

She allows him one more kiss before she forces herself out of his car, her whole body still humming as she heads inside town hall.

* * *

><p>"Bowling?" she asks incredulously, fixing Peeta with a doubtful look when he pulls up in front of the Capitol Bowling building.<p>

He smiles at her expression, cutting his engine off. "You kicked my ass at darts. I feel like I need to redeem myself by playing you in something I'm good at."

"And the thing you're good at is _bowling_," she deadpans as they climb out of his car to head inside.

"I like to think I'm good at a respectable number of things," he says, holding the door for her. "I'm good at making paper airplanes. I'm good at opening jars. All kinds of jars. I never have a problem with that. I could be your go-to jar opener, if you're looking for one. I'm also good at reprogramming VCRs."

She laughs, turning to face him as they stop to wait in line for shoes and a lane. "Do people even own VCRs anymore?"

"Shit. You're right. I guess I'll have to scratch that off my list. Well, I'm good at yelling out the right answers before the contestants do on 'Family Feud.' It gets pretty intense around my house," he muses, then furrows his brow in mock thought. "I think that's it. Yep, that's the extent of the things I'm good at."

She raises her eyebrows. "Wow, it's amazing I'm not having to beat out dozens of other suitors for your time and attention."

He shrugs nonchalantly. "There's always a line at the bakery of women who want my buns."

Katniss groans loudly. "You did not just really say that," she admonishes.

He nods with grave sincerity as they shuffle to the front of the line. "I'm good at making incredibly corny puns, did I mention that?"

"I would keep that off your OKCupid profile," she suggests, but she gives him a small smile anyway.

They grab bowling shoes in their respective sizes and, after paying, find their assigned lane. She's skeptical of his game, but after three strikes in a row, she realizes he wasn't lying.

"Okay, Lebowski," she says suspiciously, pouring herself a beer from the pitcher. "How are you so good at bowling?"

Peeta spins around to face her, after getting his fourth strike. "You know, you never actually see The Dude bowl in that movie. I'm more like The Jesus."

She raises her eyebrows as he sits down across from her at the table to pour a beer. "Do you also expose yourself to children?"

The pitcher freezes, and he grimaces. "Okay, scratch that."

"Maybe another thing to leave off your OKCupid profile," she continues wryly, and he fixes her with narrowed eyes.

"You're being very undude right now," he accuses, swigging his beer once he tops it off.

"Well, that's just, like, your opinion, man," she jokes, and Peeta smiles, shaking his head as he taps his beer to hers in cheers.

"To answer your original question, I did intramural bowling in college."

Katniss lingers at the table instead of immediately taking her turn. "Yeah?"

He nods. "I was a wrestler, but I fucked up my knee pretty bad my first year. I decided to find something else to do to keep me young and spry."

She quirks her eyebrow. "Because when I think bowling, I think young and spry."

He gives her an exasperated look. "You gonna bust my balls all night, Everdeen?"

She shrugs. "If you're going to completely humiliate me at bowling, I think it's a fair trade-off."

He narrows his eyes at her, but she can see the mirth in their depths. "Go get your gutterball already," he says before taking a sip.

Scoffing, Katniss gets up to do just that. Instead, she manages to hit four pins and then three, which is her best round yet. "See, you're already improving just by virtue of being in the proximity of my bowling prowess," he congratulates her when she returns to the table, and she scowls at him.

"I don't think I hassled you this much at darts," she points out, picking up a menu to thumb through. Terrible bowling alley food sounds perfect right now.

"I've played competitive sports since I was 12," he defends. "Shit talking comes with the territory. Plus, I'm trying to impress you. How else will you know I'm actually good at something?"

She frowns, glancing at him briefly. "You bake. You cook. You bowl. You paint. As soon as you learn how to play darts well, you'll be completely out of my league."

She doesn't mean to say it; she focuses intently on the menu, hoping the statement came off as playfully as she intended it and not as pathetic as it sounded to her own ears.

She's startled when he grabs her hand, forcing her to drop the menu. "Hey," he says softly, and she stares at him wide-eyed. He's quiet for a moment as he studies her, and she wants to punch herself for ruining the atmosphere of the date. Finally, his mouth twists humorously. "Was that a bowling pun?"

She blinks in confusion but laughs a second later when it registers with her. "No, that was completely unintentional. Puns are your thing, remember?"

"Ah, yes. My list keeps getting longer."

"As your head gets bigger," she says dryly, relieved he diffused the awkwardness, but he smiles at her.

"For what it's worth...I only want to be in your league," he tells her, squeezing her hand as the corner of his mouth turns up. Warmth fills her chest and stomach, but she covers it with a laugh.

"Okay. Enough with the puns, please. Go bowl. I'm gonna order some nachos."

Peeta runs his thumb across her knuckles before releasing her hand to stand up, still smiling. "Okay. But seriously. Matching shirts. Think about it."

She shakes her head as he selects his ball from the ball return, but once his back is turned, she hides her wide, dopey smile in her beer.

* * *

><p>After, they linger outside the bowling alley, hanging around his car while they talk. They seem to both be stalling, neither really wanting to get in the car to end the date. Because once he drops her off at her place, Katniss doesn't know if she's supposed to invite him in. If he would even want to come in. She's not sure she can handle another rejection from him. So she finds herself wrought with indecision.<p>

Peeta waves a hand in front of her face. "Where'd you go?" he asks humorously when her eyes focus back on his face.

She smiles apologetically. "Sorry, guess I'm tired," she lies, but she regrets it as soon as he nods in understanding.

"I should get you home then."

She tries not to sound too eager. "I'm not _that _tired." He raises his eyebrows, intrigued.

"So what do you want to do then?" he asks, and she doesn't think she's imagining the husky quality his voice takes on with that one question.

She looks away, chewing on the inside of her bottom lip. "What do _you _want to do?" By some miracle, she actually sounds coy.

"Well. As fun as standing around kicking rocks is..." he trails off, then he's on her, pinning her to the side of the car with his body as his mouth descends on hers. She greets his tongue eagerly, sweeping hers past his lips to taste him. They both moan simultaneously, their lips resuming the kiss from earlier that day as if they never stopped. His hands bracket her hips, his fingers wrapping around and hooking under her back pockets, digging into her ass. She twines her arms around his shoulders and threads her fingers through his hair, tugging at the short curls.

She can feel his erection, stiff against her pelvis; her own arousal pools between her thighs, dampening her panties, and she presses closer to him, rubbing against his erection. Peeta groans, sucking her lip between his teeth, and his hand inches up her shirt to palm the heated flesh of her abdomen. Her stomach tightens deliciously.

She's pretty sure his hand is making a path up to her breast, but a juvenile whistle punctuated by snickers breaks them apart, throwing the proverbial ice water on the moment as Katniss flushes furiously in embarrassment and ducks her head. Breathing hard, Peeta doesn't move away from her, but he quickly, discreetly withdraws his hand and smooths her shirt back down.

"Sorry," he sighs, catching her eye. He looks as dazed as she feels, his pupils fat, a deep black. "Got carried away. I forgot there were children around."

"There are no children at my apartment," she says before she can even think through what she's doing, and she sucks in a breath as he studies her.

"Let's go there then," he agrees, and she bites down on her lip before nodding. He opens the passenger door for her, and she slips in. He takes a moment to adjust himself then strides around the car to the other side, hastily climbing in and starting the engine.

It's only a 10-minute drive to her apartment. They don't talk, and Katniss is practically bouncing with anxiety and anticipation. She jiggles her leg nervously, worried he'll change his mind by the time they reach her place, but to her delight he dutifully follows her up the stairs to her floor, his hands ghosting on her hips, her waist, her arms, anywhere he can touch her with a respectful restraint. Embarrassingly, she struggles to unlock her door, her hand trembling slightly.

But once they're safely inside, he's got her pinned again with her back to the door, mirroring their earlier arrangement against his car. Her keys drop to the floor along with her purse, and she pulls on his shirt to connect her mouth with his, desperately and hungrily kissing him. There's a sloppy, unpracticed way their lips move together, their noses bumping and their teeth clashing, but she's never been more turned on in her life. Her clit throbs incessantly, and she opens her legs wider so he can step between them and press his erection against her center. She moans, and he takes the opportunity to attack her neck, skimming his teeth and tongue along the sinews and muscles there, suckling at her pulse point.

His hand dips under her shirt, and thankfully there is no wolf whistle this time to dissuade him because he pushes up until he cups her breast, massaging it through bra. Katniss whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut; his thumb dips under the edge of her bra to tease her stiff nipple, and she bucks against his erection. The friction sparks white behind her eyelids, and she moans his name.

With his other hand, Peeta unfastens her jeans and lowers the zipper. He halts his trail on her neck to look at her. "Is this okay?" he breathes, his hand poised at the parted fly of her pants, and she nods sharply. Hurriedly, he tugs her pants halfway down her thighs. The crotch of her panties is soaked, made uncomfortably cool by the exposure, but he slides his hand past the waistband of her underwear, curling over her mound. She gasps, jerking against him when his fingers glide through the wetness there, and he curses reverently. "Fuck, you're wet."

She can't formulate words, gripping his biceps so tightly she's sure to leave bruises. Peeta explores her folds with achingly slow leisure, like he's mapping every line and plane, but when he grazes her clit, she bangs her head back against the door.

"There?" he growls, and she nods with a gasp as he begins to rub it. Slowly, fumbling slightly, as he finds a rhythm, as he gauges her reaction. But when she begins to grind down against his hand with little hiccups of pleasure, he quickens his ministrations, bearing down on the little bud with more pressure to work through the slipperiness of her body's quickening response.

It doesn't take long to unravel her; she swears it's only 10 seconds before she clamps down on his hand, her entire body tightening and shorting with electricity as she comes. Peeta sucks on her neck when she does, his fingers still moving, dipping inside her, drawing out her moisture, and she quakes with the aftershocks for a good minute while the orgasm subsides.

She's still trembling when he removes his hand and wipes his fingers off on his pants. He nuzzles the side of her face, but he tugs her pants back up, rebuttoning them. She makes a sound of protest, lolling her head on the door to look at him as he lifts his head. He looks sheepish, almost, but there's an intensity in his gaze. "Sorry," he breathes.

She looks at him, confused. "What?" Her tongue feels thick in her mouth, and she shakes the fog from her head. She reaches a hand between them, cupping his erection through his pants. "Don't you want...?"

He shakes his head, pressing his mouth together and swallowing. "I mean...yes. But I don't...not tonight. Not yet..."

She's having a hard time following him, and her bottom lip juts out defiantly. "Then why did you come up with me?" she croaks out.

He laughs hoarsely, closing his eyes. "Because I'm weak. Because I needed to know what you feel like," he murmurs.

She stares at him blankly. "You just wanted to get me off? That's it?"

He lifts his eyebrows, just barely. "Does that sound completely absurd?"

"A little bit, yes," she tells him, still flabbergasted. She has to bite back her next words: _Why don't you want to have sex with me? _But he seems to hear it anyway, senses it.

"Katniss," he starts, his eyes locking onto hers. "Can we take this slow? Is that okay?"

Her mind is still reeling from the post-orgasmic euphoria. Her body is starting to feel limp and sated, and her brain feels like it's short-circuiting from what he's telling her. And she feels a familiar defensiveness kick in. "I'm not easy," she says tightly, her mouth curling into a scowl. A sense of humiliation is starting to scratch at the base of her skull as she realizes that he's accusing her of moving too fast.

His eyes widen, and he pulls back. "What? I'm not—that's not..." Flustered, he stops a second to gather his thoughts, then he tries again, "I don't...think of people in those terms. I don't think that of _you_, period. It wouldn't matter anyway. I just...It's not about you. I just want to do it this way."

When she doesn't respond, he adds, "I do want to. At some point. I hope you know that."

She's not sure if she does. She was convinced just a few days ago he wasn't interested in her, at all. She's starting to get whiplash from the back and forth.

But she feels contrite, ashamed, and she tucks her hair behind her ears, dropping her gaze. "Sorry. I didn't mean to pressure you," she whispers.

He smiles. "You didn't. You haven't even said the word sex, Katniss."

She scowls at herself, rolling her eyes. Maybe not, but acting wounded and pissy every time he shies away from her physical overtures is pretty damn childish. She feels Peeta poking at her mouth, playfully turning her lips up into a smile. She tries to resist, but when she looks at him, she has to fight the instinctive curving of her mouth.

"You're so...fucking perfect when you come," he chuckles, the sound strained. "If you don't think I want to make you do that as often as possible, in every way imaginable, you're insane."

A hot flush consumes her face at his words, and she can't even look at him. "Oh," she chokes out, shocked and incredulous.

He laughs again. "Do you believe me now? Is that direct enough?"

When she finally nods, he steps away from her. She's slumped against the door, and it takes some effort to stand up straight, Peeta taking her hand to help. She's acutely aware of everything now, self-conscious about the moment they just shared, about how he undid her with a few simple strokes of his fingers. How loud was she? She can't look him in the eye right now, but Peeta is either oblivious to the awkwardness, or ignores it, because he pulls her into a hug and kisses the top of her head.

"I should head home though," he tells her regretfully, and she nods. He doesn't leave without kissing her a few times first. From her bedroom window, she watches him get into his car and drive away, and after brushing her teeth, she promptly passes out.

Thankfully, this time without the prelude of questions and self-doubt.

* * *

><p><em>Find me on tumblr<strong>:<strong> **fuckingplebe**._


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